


5 times Jean noticed Armin’s hands, and 1 time Armin noticed Jean’s

by melonpanparade



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, shameless hand fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonpanparade/pseuds/melonpanparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin's hands are quite the distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 times Jean noticed Armin’s hands, and 1 time Armin noticed Jean’s

**Author's Note:**

> Original post on tumblr [here.](http://melonpanparade.tumblr.com/post/83718285309)

**1.**

Armin has a habit of tucking his hair behind his ear. Jean knows how it goes—he’s observed Armin enough times. Regardless of whether they’re talking, or eating dinner, or whatever, it starts with stray strands tickling Armin’s nose or getting caught on his bottom lip, and then his nose twitches or his lips purse before he raises a hand to push the offending hairs back behind his ear. Armin’s hand moves ever so gracefully, and Jean is mesmerised.

It’s a windy day when Armin turns to Jean—mid-conversation—and suddenly blurts out, “Maybe I should cut my hair short. What do you think?”

Jean thinks that windy days are his favourite, because Armin’s hair messily frames his face and he’s pushing his hair valiantly, but the wind is relentless. Jean thinks that Armin’s hands are beautiful—in movement, shape, and dexterity. Jean thinks that Armin should never even consider cutting his hair short, because then he wouldn’t be tucking his hair behind his ear all the time, and that would leave Jean devastated.

Jean thinks a lot of things, but instead he says, “Leave it—it’s fine.”

Armin cocks his head to the side while his hand is still tangled in his hair, and smiles.

 

**2.**

Armin’s not really a messy eater, but he’s not exactly immaculate either. And he has a sweet tooth. His favourite are cookies—ridiculously crumbly cookies—and although he manages to eat them without covering the entire front of his shirt with crumbs, he always ends up with a smattering of crumbs around his mouth.

When it happens, Jean takes it upon himself to point it out—for purely selfish reasons, of course. After all, he doesn’t want to give anyone else the privilege of seeing  the embarrassed flush of Armin’s face before he wipes off the offending crumbs, or the way Armin answers mid-bite before realising that that wasn’t a very smart idea.

“All gone?” Armin asks, after brushing the crumbs from his face to his shirt, then onto the ground.

“You still have some left on your bottom lip.”

Armin smiles sheepishly and uses his thumb to wipe the remaining bits of cookie away, and Jean thinks he won’t be able to ever eat cookies without remembering the way Armin brushed off those crumbs with his thumb.

 

**3.**

It’s not the first time Jean’s thought about how fortunate he is to listen to Armin talk at length about  _anything_ , even if that anything is strategies. Of course he appreciates Armin’s tactical genius, but the fascination lies in the animated way Armin uses his hands to convey his plans. They’re calloused—everyone’s are, after months and years of intensive 3DMG usage—yet elegant. In the air, they have a mind of their own as they demonstrate ideas, spaces, formations, and pathways—sometimes moving in tandem, sometimes moving independently of the other—and Jean hasn’t got a clue what Armin is talking about.

“—so the best way to achieve this outcome would be to—Jean, you aren’t listening to a thing I’m saying!”

“Yeah I am!”

 Armin laughs knowingly. “I’m sure you were. But just in case, I’ll go through it again.”

Jean makes a non-committal noise and prepares himself to see Armin gesticulate wildly with his hands again.

 

**4.**

Armin treats his books with the utmost respect—perhaps even reverence. Jean imagines it stems from handling old books passed down from his grandfather—books so old that the pages are tattered and threatening to fall apart if mishandled. But in spite of the age and condition of the book, Armin constantly licks his finger to flip the pages, and Jean doesn’t understand how someone can manage make reading look so alluring. Especially when they’re sprawled across the sofa in his office (perks of having the commander’s office).

And, oh, is he ever a distraction! Jean is seated at his desk, sneaking glances at Armin in between reviewing and signing documents. Slender fingers are curled around the edges of the book, only moving to turn the page or to scratch an itch. It only takes one look at the embarrassingly small stack of completed documents for Jean to realise that he’s been staring longer than expected.

“Armin,” Jean says with the intention of suggesting that Armin relocate—if not for his own sanity, then for the sake of the paperwork. “Would—”

“Hold on.” The book rests in his lap as he rubs vigorously at his nose. And with a disarming smile and ink noticeably smeared across his nose, Armin asks brightly, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Never mind.”

Jean’s too distracted by the endearing picture Armin makes with ink smudged on his fingers and nose, and resigns himself to catching up on paperwork later.

 

**5.**

Back in their trainee days, Armin didn’t wear glasses. But he does now (for short-sightedness), and Jean thinks it’s the best thing to ever happen to Armin. He hasn’t been wearing them for very long; it shows in the way he adjusts his glasses. He hasn’t really decided on a way to counter the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, so he alternates. Sometimes he pinches the right hinge with his forefinger and thumb, and other times he’ll use two fingers to push up the bridge. When he’s in a hurry or when his fingers aren’t free, he uses the butt of his palm on edge of his right lens. Jean thinks it looks a little silly, but he supposes desperate times call for desperate measures.

But today, in the midst of a heated discussion with a particularly rude merchant, Jean swears Armin purposely pushes the bridge up with only his middle finger in lieu of a scathing remark. When they’re finally outside, Jean howls with laughter.

“Damn, you’ve got balls!” Jean chokes out. “Did you see the look on his face?”

“It was worth it! Not to mention, he finally agreed to our conditions.” Armin takes off his glasses to wipe away the tears of mirth from his eyes, and then pushes them up with his middle finger—this time with the rest of his fingers upright. Jean decides he likes this way best. “I guess these aren’t too bad after all.”

Jean couldn’t agree more.

 

**+1**

Armin has these warm, leather gloves that he faithfully wears throughout the duration of winter, and it drives Jean crazy—not in the good way either. But on one rare occasion, Armin forgets them. Jean knows it’s bad that he feels happy about the forgotten accessories—goodness knows how many times Armin’s brought his hands up to his mouth to blow on them in a pathetic attempt to warm them up—but if he’s honest, he’s been missing the sight of Armin’s bare hands. Nevertheless, Jean is in a good mood now, and the opportunity to tease Armin is too good to pass up.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s winter—cold, and I don’t have gloves!” Armin dramatically waves his hands in Jean’s face for emphasis, and Jean stifles a laugh.

“Oh, yes, winter. Thank you; I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re terrible and you know it!” Armin gives him a light push. “Can’t you, I don’t know, do something about it?”

“Do something about the weather. Right.”

“Oh shush, you know what I mean.”

And so Jean grabs both of Armin’s hands, and envelops them in his own. Armin marvels at the warmth emanating from Jean’s hands, and the firmness of his grasp, and maybe, just maybe, Armin thinks, he doesn’t need the leather gloves anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants more leather gloves!Armin and frustrated!Jean, [towine](http://towine.tumblr.com/)’s written a fic on it [here](http://towine.tumblr.com/post/80990928118/and-now-thanks-to-your-conversation-with-melonpanparade/) and I shamelessly borrowed the idea.


End file.
